


caverns

by starstrung



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 07:23:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16383815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstrung/pseuds/starstrung
Summary: It’s probably a testament to how much wine Vax indulged in that he is caught staring.





	caverns

He’s bored, he’s pleasantly flushed with warmth from the cask of wine that Grog looted from a body on the way here, and for one night, Vax thinks he can maybe stop worrying about whether it all has been worth it.

The others have made their way to sleep, but Grog seems to have made it his mission to finish the last dregs of wine. He has long since abandoned the goliath-sized tankard that Scanlan’s mansion ghosts produced for him, and is drinking straight from the cask. Vax finds himself watching the slow, messy drip of wine from the mouth of the cask, down the side of Grog’s jaw, dropping at last onto his bare chest.

It’s probably a testament to how much wine Vax indulged in that he is caught staring.

Grog wipes his mouth, and looks at him, brow wrinkling. “What?” he asks.

“Hey, do you want to wrestle?” Vax says, and it takes a second for his brain to catch up. Wait. He did not mean to ask that. This is a terrible idea. He absolutely cannot take it back now.

Grog looks him up and down, smirks, and Vax suddenly feels a deep understanding for birds when they puff up their feathers to look more intimidating. He feels way too small. “You’re on, little guy,” Grog says, baring his teeth. And, fuck, even if Vax wanted to back down, he absolutely can’t let Grog get away with that now.

They go down to Scanlan’s training room, where Grog clears a space by just hoisting up training dummies and throwing them into a pile in the corner of the room. One of the training dummies loses its head in the process. Vax gulps, sees the clear omen of ill tidings sent from the gods, and chooses to ignore it anyway.

Still, when Grog plants his feet at the center of the room and assumes a fighting position, the part of Vax that’s always liked to creep up on the side of danger and poke it sharply in the ribs quails a little. Is he really doing this? He’s really doing this.

He launches himself at Grog in a feint. He manages to twist under Grog’s arm and up onto his shoulders, trying to use his momentum to knock Grog off balance and lose his footing in the loose sand. Grog lets out a grunt of surprise, but adjusts his weight and stays standing, leaving Vax hanging comically from his enormous shoulders.

“Is that all you got?” Grog asks, as Vax tries with all his might to strangle him with his legs. It feels a lot like trying to choke a tree trunk. Grog doesn’t even sound winded.

“Er,” Vax says, panting a little from the exertion, “give me a — _Grog_!” He yelps, as Grog yanks Vax off his shoulders with one hand and slams him into the ground.

Vax sees stars for a moment. He tries to twist out of Grog’s grasp, plants his feet in the sand and tries to thrash his way free, but Grog has him pinned securely to the ground with one hand. He isn’t even using his full strength — in fact, he’s smiling, watching Vax trying to struggle his way out of it. Vax goes red with humiliation, and possibly, something else.

“You know,” Grog says, philosophically, “this is pretty sad. How the fuck have you survived for so long?”

Vax glares at him. “You know I’m better at being sneaky and attacking from behind.”

Grog looks unconvinced, but Vax feels the pressure on his chest from his enormous hand let up just a little, and uses that opportunity to squirm his way out, throwing sand into Grog’s eyes to blind him, and disappearing into the shadows on the edges of the room that are not lit by braziers.

“Clever boy,” Grog says, but Vax hears the smile in it, and realizes with a hot flush that Grog let him go on purpose. Like a cat playing with its food, he thinks.

“Now, where’d you go?” Grog says, shaking the sand out of his eyes. Vax doesn’t breathe, stays quiet, and waits for his chance.

Grog yawns. “If you’re not gonna do anything, I’m going to bed,” he announces, and Vax chooses that moment to run up, and slam his shoulder into Grog’s solar plexus.

He _feels_ the air go out of Grog’s lungs. It’s like standing in front of a bellows in a blacksmith’s forge. Grog is stunned for a moment, and he stumbles, and that’s when Vax swings behind him and kicks his legs out from under him.

When Grog falls to his knees, Vax feels the impact of it in his bones. He stands behind Grog, still amazed that he pulled that off, and lets himself admire the sight before him. On his knees, Grog is still just slightly taller than Vax’s full height. The muscles of his back work visibly beneath his skin as he recovers from the blow and draws in a great breath.

It doesn’t last long. Vax is always amazed by how someone as large as Grog can move so damn quickly. With another yanking motion, Vax finds himself in exactly the same position as before. Flat on his back, Grog pinning him down with one hand across his chest.

“Not bad,” Grog says, and Vax is gratified to see that he looks like he means it. Grog is still catching his breath from getting the wind knocked out of him, and there’s a bit of that manic delight in his eyes that Vax only sees when he’s in the middle of a very good fight.

That kind of uncomplicated happiness is endlessly infectious. Vax grins up at him. “Alright, big man, I think we both know who’s the better wrestler here. You win this round.” He taps a hand on Grog’s massive forearm, but Grog does not immediately let him up.

“You sure? Want me to let you go again and give you another try?” Grog offers. “Looks like it’s doing something for you.”

Vax feels the breath go out of him, and not just because Grog tightens his grip on him for a moment, squeezing painfully at his already sore ribs. It’s true that he’s now very much hard in his pants, but he didn’t expect Grog to notice, and he _especially_ did not expect him to comment on it.

“Er, I mean,” he says, nervously, and imagines it for a minute. Grog letting him go, and letting him try again just for his own amusement, until Vax is winded, bruised, held down again. He wonders if Grog is offering what Vax thinks he’s offering. For the first time this evening, Vax thinks about how it would feel to have Grog pinning him down just like this, while his other hand rips open Vax’s trousers and—.

It’s too much. All of a sudden, Vax feels claustrophobic — not only from Grog’s weight on him, but his smell, his presence, the tremendous heat coming off of him at this close proximity. Grog’s eyes feel like they’re piercing right through him, in that simple, unrelenting way that Grog has sometimes. It always manages to catch Vax off guard.

“No,” Vax says firmly. “Thanks, but no. I’d like to be let up now, please.”

Grog shrugs, looking unoffended, and lifts his hand. “Suit yourself.”

Vax doesn’t wait for him to say anything, just rolls to his feet and steals away from the room as quickly as possible.

 

 

 

 

Vax avoids being in the same room alone with Grog for a while after that. Then they’re on the road again, and any of the dead air between them doesn’t matter. There are battles, and enemies to kill and hunt down, and monsters to slay. Grog still gives him a hard time, pushes him around, trades insults and pranks like always. So it’s basically forgotten.

Well, other than a few moments of weakness when Vax can’t help but to get himself off to the idea of Grog pinning him down and fucking him mercilessly. Who can blame him for that?

They make it back to Whitestone, and after what feels like weeks, there are a few days where they can breathe. It is rare, summery weather in Whitestone, and Vax spends long hours on the terrace just lingering in the sun, letting the warmth of it sink into his bones.

He sees a movement from the corner of his eye, and looks over to see Grog with his axe in his lap, sharpening the blade with a stone.

Vax just wants to mess with Grog a little. That’s all it is, just another prank. By some fortunate twist of fate, Vax has accidentally worn one of Vex’s shirts today. He hadn’t thought much of it in the morning when he got dressed — they share clothes all the time, to the point where sometimes they can’t even tell whose piece of clothing it was originally. Both of them really like the color black.

He knows exactly what he looks like in this shirt, is the thing. The neck of it is deep enough for it to expose his collarbones, the long line of his neck. It isn’t quite long enough to cover the entire length of his torso, so it shows off the hard muscles of his belly, especially if he stretches.

Vax does stretch. First one arm above his head, then the other. Then he sits down and touches his toes, aware of how the shirt rides up on his back, aware that Grog has stopped sharpening his axe, and has begun watching. All of a sudden, Vax feels drunk. There is only one thing to do, he decides. Escalate.

Keyleth showed him plenty of meditative poses the last time he went to her for help when he needed something to calm him down — none of them worked for him, but he does like to use them every now and then to limber up. They give him a pleasant soreness in his muscles, and he thinks it’s made him lighter on his feet in battle as well.

It also helps that doing them makes his ass look great.

When Vax chances to look, Grog is staring openly at him, his legs spread apart in his seat, his axe lying forgotten across his knees. Grog is a terrible liar, and is only ever honest in all of his reactions — so there is no mistaking the desire in his eyes. Vax finds that he can’t look away from it, is struck by it. There’s all this space between them, but Vax still feels laid bare, _seen_.

He looks over to Vex, who has her legs propped up in Percy’s lap. She’s narrowing her eyes at Vax from across the terrace, like she knows exactly what he’s up to.

Vax does the only thing he can do. He walks away.

Maybe this is one thing that he should just leave alone.

 

 

 

 

Dying changes everything.

Well, that’s not quite right, is it? _Dying_ would be simple. Dying and never coming back — then he’d just be gone. Vax is an assassin. He knows death very intimately, has seen it up close and personal, has felt it pass under his own hands. Dying does not frighten him.

It’s coming back that just fucks everything up, really. And coming back with an oath to the Raven Queen to do her bidding, and return to her side when it’s done?

Yeah, that does change everything.

 

 

 

 

It feels like time repeats itself in a way. They’re back in Scanlan’s mansion, and everyone except him and Grog are asleep. They all stayed up late talking, making plans to defeat Vecna. It went nowhere, and by the end of it, Vax started hearing the despair in his friends’ voices, and there was nothing that he could do.

“Let’s wrestle,” he says, decisively to Grog. He doesn’t wait for an answer, just heads downstairs to the training room.

Grog follows him. As soon as Grog steps onto the sand, Vax attacks.

Vax hates him, in that moment. Not because Grog did anything wrong, of course, but just because he’s there, and he’s letting Vax snarl and claw at him like a beast gone out of his mind. He’s there, he’s something solid that Vax can dig blunt nails into, try to tear apart with his hands.

Because Vax is literally wearing death as a fucking mantle these days. It feels like there’s an empty cavernous space inside him, like everything Vox Machina does these days doesn’t _matter_ anymore. He used to be able to look at himself ten years from now, and think _I might be better then_. _I might have my shit together_.

He doesn’t have that luxury anymore. Vax is going to die soon.

He goes for Grog’s eyes, for his throat. He slams his elbow into his nose, tries to bite at his hand. He feels feral with this hatred, with how badly he needs to get fucked up right now — it’s what he deserves. Grog swats him away easily each time, and does not strike back.

“Come _on_ , you big oaf.” Vax is so exhausted that his legs and arms are shaking. “Your big muscles not working today, is that it? Too much of a limp dick to fight back?” Vax says, tries to goad Grog into coming at him like he dearly, desperately wants him too.

“You want to talk about it?” Grog asks, patiently, and it’s so far from what Vax expects him to say or do that he freezes, blinks up at him.

“What?” Vax says, completely thrown. His arms fall loosely to his sides.

“I mean, clearly you’ve got,” Grog waves his hands at Vax, “some issues going on. You want to talk about it?”

Vax laughs, and then goes abruptly cold all over with misery, hearing himself. He sounded like his father just then, Vax thinks. Heartless and cruel.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” he bites out.

Grog sits down on his bum in the sand, a cloud of it rising and settling around him. “Then find someone else,” Grog says. “I’m done watching you embarrass yourself like this.”

Vax digs his nails into his palms. He can’t go to anyone else. Vex will only look at him with hurt, because she cannot share this pain. They have shared every single thing in their life from its very beginning, shared every wound among them like it was the same flesh and blood, shared each memory and each secret. But this is one pain that she can never know. It’s the first time he’s ever felt like he’s lost her.

He can’t go to Keyleth, or Scanlan, or Percy. Because they’ll give him their pity.

And then there’s Pike, Vax thinks, shame burning in his throat. Every time she speaks of Sarenrae, Vax feels a longing so intense that his heart breaks with it. He was so close to finding light, to being something other than a knife in the darkness. There’s always a part of him that will mourn for that other Vax, the Vax he could have been.

“Why are you doing this?” Vax asks Grog. “Why are you being so nice to me? You’re never this nice.”

Grog shrugs, and does not answer at first. Then, “I miss Pike,” he says.

Vax sucks in a breath. Grog had not said much during their discussions earlier. Was this why?

“She’d know what to do,” Grog says, with a deep, steady faith. “And she wouldn’t want me beating your puny ass into a pulp just because you’re sad or whatever.”

“Fair enough,” says Vax, choosing to ignore the comment about his ass. “If you don’t want to fight, then we don’t have to fight.” He walks forward, sets his hands on Grog’s shoulders, and kneels in his lap. Grog just leans back on his hands, and frowns at him.

“Now what are you doing?” Grog asks, wary.

Vax has to smile at that, that after all this time Grog still never sees him coming. He presses up against Grog’s broad chest and kisses him. If he can’t goad Grog into fighting him, then maybe he can goad him into something else. He bites at Grog’s mouth, moans into it, tries to make it as good as he knows how.

At first, Grog doesn’t move at all, and Vax has a moment of panic where he thinks he’s made a huge mistake. But then in one enormous shift of weight, he wraps his arms around Vax, and begins to kiss back.

Vax goes still, and lets Grog take the lead, but Grog is maddeningly gentle, despite his clumsiness. He kisses slow and sweet, like he’s being careful, even when Vax digs his nails into Grog’s back in an attempt to make him go a little rougher. Grog’s hold on him is heavy enough that he can’t move, and it feels so much like an embrace that he has to push away, one hand on Grog’s chest.

Grog lets himself be pushed, gives Vax his space. Grog seems unable to stop staring at Vax’s lips as he pants, as if admiring the work he has done to them. Vax’s face feels oversensitized and rubbed raw from Grog’s beard.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Grog asks him, looking confused.

Vax makes himself smile. “It is, big man. Just not all that I want.”

“Oh,” Grog says, leering a little. “Yeah, I can see that.” His gaze moves lower. He reaches out and strokes a finger roughly over the bulge of Vax’s crotch. Vax gasps, tries to move deeper into that touch, but Grog just laughs and pulls away.

“You _really_ want this,” Grog says, looking pleased with himself, and Vax hates how much he’s blushing. He shouldn’t be this flustered, not if it’s just Grog.

He reaches forward and squeezes Grog through his pants. Gods, he’s big. “Yeah, so what are you going to do about it?” Vax says, aware that he’s just being bratty on purpose now. If it gets him what he wants, then he finds he can live with it.

“I’ll show you,” Grog says, and surges forward to lift Vax up in one arm and carry him off.

 

 

 

 

No matter how hard Vax tries to provoke Grog into violence, Grog seems determined to be gentle.

Grog kneels between Vax’s legs and draws Vax’s entire length into his mouth easily, his nose brushing against the hairs of his belly and sucks him off so slowly and thoroughly that halfway through it Vax is swearing insults at him, tells him to stop and just fuck him already. At least that would be fast, and impersonal, instead of this gradual, building undoing.

“You want to tap out, you know how to tap out,” Grog says, pulling off. “But if we keep going, then this is what I’m doing to you, got it?”

He is holding Vax’s legs down on the mattress. His shoulders are so wide that to fit Grog between his legs, Vax has had to stretch his legs far enough open that the muscles of his inner thighs have begun to feel sore. But it’s the unblinking way that Grog looks at him that makes Vax feel the most exposed.

“You big lump,” Vax says, his chest heaving, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. “Can’t you do anything right?”

Grog smiles at him, and it fills something in him, that smile. Suddenly Vax doesn’t feel quite as cavernous. “Guess not,” Grog says, unbothered, and bends his head down again to finish the job.

Vax gives into it after that, lets himself be touched and handled with care, like something precious. Not something dead and unseemly — it is the most life in him that he has felt since coming back from the Raven Queen. Grog covers him with his entire body, folds him into that enormous warmth, but is always sure to leave Vax’s hands free, just in case he wants to tap out.

Vax has seen Grog crush a man’s skull in his hand, but somehow it’s the cautious, tender way that Grog pushes into him, begins to fuck him that breaks Vax the most.

When it is done, Vax can barely move. Every part of him feels like it’s been filled with loose, warm sand. Grog cleans them both up with a wet cloth and then heaves himself into the bed next to him.

“See? Much better than watching you get hard in your pants just getting slapped around,” Grog says, with immense satisfaction. And with that, he turns around and begins to snore.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/star_strung).


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